Thavma Chronicles: The Report
by The Duke of Newcombe
Summary: An unknown Inquisitor from the Imperium's dying days retrieves an almost mythical historical document. Expect some familiar characters. Inspired by (read an inversion of) Menzies Tank's deviant art work. /gallery/48215519.
1. Chapter 1

**Thavma Chronicles: The Initial Report.**

_After Action Report: Author's personal commentary bracketed and bolded in Italics added sometime after official archiving. Original archive date 114M42.303_

To: Grandmaster (Redacted) Ordos Thavma

CC: Inquisitor Lord Wyndham Gileas, care of Sister Initiate Iubara Fidela.

From: Inquisitor (redacted)

Greetings My Lord,

I have the honour to inform you that the data repository known as the Veydon Archive has been successfully retrieved from the Space Hulk codenamed _Act of Vengeance_. This was achieved by an insertion team consisting of myself, Brother Gauis Bukanin of the Sons of Americ (seconded to the Deathwatch), The Rogue Trader Hrodbearth Eisenstark, the Reclamator Larissa von Dume, Magos Tatya Sable and a reinforced company strength party of Armsmen from the Rogue Trader Vessel _Venit Heims._

_(__**Get in, find what we're looking for and get out. Sounds simple doesn't it? But it never is. For starters I for one wasn't even convinced it existed**__)._

Among other artefacts retrieved were the Relic Daemon Hammer known as the Hammer of Thunor, to be returned to Fenris at first opportunity, and the Storm Shield known as Americ's Legacy a decision on its ultimate fate pending a reply from the Sons of Americ Chapter Master.

(_**Meaning that because he recovered it after the Emperor alone knows how long, Brother Bukanin probably hopes to named the next Chapter Ancient and transferred from the Deathwatch)**_

Other articles and artefacts recovered have been disposed of according to the usual procedures.

(**_And since we took passage on a Rogue Trader, this means hidden away and sold off when that young rogue Eisenstark can be sure no one's looking._)**

As suspected, the retrieval of this relic proved to be a challenging endeavour due to the Ork infestation around the artefact's last known location. (**As 90% of Eisenstark's armsmen who accompanied us can posthumously attest, given the lengths that a Rogue Trader, particularly of his particular lineage was prepared to take to retrieve it, it seems that he at least, believes it is genuine.**)

Preliminary investigation of the principal artefact itself suggests that this is indeed genuine or at the very least and authentic replication of the same. Popular conjecture regarding the method of storage and access also seem to be corroborated. (**This raises some uncomfortable questions regarding the late Grandmaster himself, specifically his own methods and motives**)

I will undertake more thorough tests of the archive when we have transitted into the Vakand system for repairs and an Auto Séance can be safely conducted.

Until then I remain your most Obedient Servant (Redacted) Inquisitor, Ordo Xenos, Ordos Thavma


	2. Chapter 2

The following was autotranscribed from pict and vox recordings from the a Shark Assault Boat registered to the _Venit Heims_.

The last of the boarding party are in position. This particular contingent is under the direct command of Inquisitor (Redacted) who is securing himself in a seat adjusted to accommodate his power armour. "A 5 boat raid for a dataslate sir?" The speaker is Lt. Poppy Bonesteel, the Ogryn commanding the Armsmen platoon assigned to this particular boat. "We don't know what's guarding it Lieutenant." The inquisitor is terse. "Or if it's even genuine." "That too but I doubt we'd need nearly 200 ex Astrae Militarae to check its authenticity." "It's got something to with old Anton right." "Who told you that." "Well why else would an Inquisitor and a Rogue Trader be working like this?".

(_**I'd heard rumours that the Ogryn women were considerably cleverer than their menfolk but this one gave most humans officers a run for their money. Not only did she know her logic but she also knew her history. Anton Eisenstark was a direct ancestor of young Hrodbearth and had a much closer working relationship with the Inquisition than was typical for one of his ilk.)**_

++ All units this is Flag, ETA 10 minutes, Magos Sable, have you completed the prelimary rites for the EMP++ This is a radio transmission from Rogue Trader Eisenstark's Assaulboat.

++ Affirmitive Flag, given the inherent risk and uncertain I have prepared a psy link trigger tuned to the Inquisitor's psychic essence.++

++ Good thinking Tatty++

"So one though from you and we're gone in a puff of smoke then?" Bonesteel enquires."

"Or a blast of warp energy or a gust of wind my typical to Teleportation phenomena, although puffs of smoke have indeed been documented, but only rarely." Corrects her orderly, Private Ibzer.

"Pedant."  
"That's what I'm paid for sir."

"I know the name but how did this Veydon bloke get mixed up in all this? We are talking about Josiah Veydon the historian right?"

(_**It's hardly surprising she doesn't know. Very few, even Grandmasters are well known to the public in person. Kolius Raege was very much the exception to the rule.)**_

"A colleague."

(**This was strictly speaking a lie, I had never met the old Grand Master, in fact he had disappeared before I was even a lowly acolyte with the Ordos Thavma. My old master however, knew the man personally .)**

"I thought you fellas burned books rather than wrote them."

"Veydon was a scholar first and foremost."  
"Well that would explain why every man and his dog knows the name despite not having any idea who he really was."

"I suppose."

"Must be something bloody important in this archive though. Plans? Star Charts? STC database?"

"No idea."

++ Well is where we say goodbye ladies and gents++ Internal intercome, from Sublieutenant Brown, the pilot of the assaultboat ++

"Right, move out."

Autotranscription ends.


	3. Chapter 3

The following was autotranscribed from vox and pict recordings downloaded from a suit of Eisenstark pattern power armour registered to Inquisitor (Redacted).

The boarding party has docked at the primary shield generator for one of the wrecks (Scans from the rogue trader vessels suggest it to be the Isolde pattern trade clipper "_Summersdale_", rumoured to be the last known location of Grandmaster Veydon). "Magos Sable, has the charge been set." "Yes Inquisitor." "Right, then move out." Orders Capt. Morrigen, the commander of the Armsmen contingent. The party proceeds through the superstructure of the wreck to the main staterooms. A gunshot sounds and one of the armsmen falls wounded.

"Ambush!" I draw my force sword and inferno pistol, looking around. There are hundreds of orks rushing from the shadows towards our party. Lt. Bonesteel's chainsword revs and she cuts and ork (relatively) clean in two with a single stroke. One ork leaps at me wielding a primitive pistol and a mace fashioned from a piece of superstructure from a spaceship. He disintegrates in midair as my shot catches him square in the chest. Another ork takes a swing at Magos Sable's back. She does not move, the Drangon Scale pattern power armour protects her. She turns round almost too fast for the eye to see and decapitates the greenskin with a single sweep of her Omnisian Axe.

The Xeno Arcanist Yanis Endriks runs one ork through with a powersword concealed in his cane. The ork then grabs his leg and the academic shoots it in the head with a naval pistol gifted from some long lost expedition. We proceed down several decks and ambushes morale and numbers falling we reach a large, well established "settlement" of orks. The redesign of the cavernous cargo holds gives the impression of a parody of some old shanty town. A series of improvised explosives cut down yet more armsmen in a whirlwind of twisted metal. "Well this mission just got a lot more complicated." Endriks remarked. "Why do you think I brought over 100 armsmen?" Asks Eisenstark, once again drawing his family's ancient Vakand made sword, Ice Claw.

" I See it!" Shouts tech priest Sable.

"See what?" Bonesteel yells back

"The dataslate!" "Where, round that psyker's waist."

"Huh?" "Augmetic eyes."

"Right."

They don't have time to finish the conversation as the orks descend upon us in a crashing green wave. For every greenskin we bring down with a shot, two more come charging forward. Las bolt, flame, bolt round, nothing seems to diminish their numbers. "Where did you see this damn thing?" As the dwindling boading party is bunching closer together, Eisenstark and myself are edging closer to the Wyrdboy. The spacemarine Bukanin is beside us shouting insults over the sound of his own stormbolter. Bonesteel is not far behind with half a dozen armsmen trying to support us. An ork nearly the size of Bukanin lunges from the gloom, catching the rogue trader square in the chest with an enormous hammer. He falls backwards and two men try to drag him to safety, a hopeless gesture as he is clad in the same pattern of power armour I wear myself.

"Come at me Greenskin." Bukanin yells, his bluster now replaced with genuine rage, his power axe flaring in the dimly lit metal cavern. Bonesteel revs her chainsword. "No." The Astartes says quietly. "He's mine." The ork charges brandishing the hammer bellowing obscenities. In the ensuing fight, Bukanin seems intent on attacking the xeno's shoulders. A punishing blow from the hammer causes the Space Marine to drop his power axe. He then reaches forward, and wrenches ork's breastplate off in a shower of scrap metal and chain links. The ork headbuts his helmet and staggers back. It then stares down in mild surprise at the 10 or so centimetres of Vakandite Alloy protruding from its chest. Eisenstark removes his sword from the creatures back and decapitates it in a two handed blow. His armour is dented and he is walking unsteadily.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asks. Bukanin simply nods, an almost imperceptible motion in an astartes helmet. The breast plate is infact a round shield. There is a white star emblazoned on the red rimmed blue Vakandite Allow. It is identical to the chapter symbol of the Sons of Americ, which adorns the right shoulder of Bukanin's armour.

"Well it's not what we came here for." I say brusquely

"It is what I came here for." The Marine replies.

"What about his hammer, that looks Imperial, too big for a man, probably Astartes issue too."

I say. He clips the thunder hammer to the back of his pack and does likewise with the shield. The sounds of Gunfire die down. I don't know if this is a food thing or a bad thing. Eisenstark seems to share my thoughts.

"Boarding party come in."

"This is Colour Sergeant Rime sir, Captain Morrigan's dead and most of the officers are either dead or wounded."

"Any more Greenskin attacks?"

"Negative sir."

"Bonesteel, get back to their position and take command. Find a structure and fortify it as best you can, have Magos Sable put a teleport homer there."

"Right you are boss."

The she Ogryn says, sketching a salute and casting an envious glance at the hammer before leaving. I can sense a powerful psychic presence in the opposite direction and motion Eisenstark and Bukanin to follow. A ball of green fire roars towards us and splashes against the Space Marine's newly claimed shield. The Mind Impulse Unit weapons in Eisenstark's suit power up as he covers our run toward the Ork Wyrdboy. A burly ork steps to block us and Bukanin decapitates it without breaking his stride.

The Xeno psyker brandishes an axe bellowing threats. Our blades clash. The Ork takes a wild swing to decapitate meand I duck sideways. It then reverses the axe and the back connects with my helmet and I fall to the deck. It draws the axe back to cut me in two and I run it through with my force sword, focusing my will into the blade. The Wyrdboy burts into green flames, the Dataslate miraculously untouched. "Fall Back!" I yell, focusing my will once more into a massive kinetic blast that scatters out pursuers. We flee, the dataslate that has caused so much death this day tucked under my pistol arm. The armsmen are barricaded in a makeshift structure bolted to the bulkhead, beset on 3 sides. Another kinetic blast and a hail of shot and energy discharge from Eisenstarks venerable armour clears our path. Once inside I mentally trigger the EMP device attached to the hulks void shields.

"Venit Heims this is Eisenstark, get us out of here now!" The recoding stops as our party, now barely numbering 3 dozen, are dragged through the warp and onto the Telemportarium of the Eisenstarks flagship.


	4. Chapter 4

**From the journal of Inquisitor [Redacted] 114 M42.299**

Exposure to the raw primordial essence of Chaos even for a the briefest instant can twist the mind, body, or even the soul. My own latent psychic abilities began to surface as I was so exposed the very first time I was sent on a mission using a teleporter.

I awoke to the familiar tang of antiseptics and nervous quiet of a medical facility. A servo skull hovered over my head. "The patient is awake." It stated in a flat monotone. A giant of a man in a plain, white short sleeved robe approaches. "Steady now Interrogator." He said gruffly.

"Not for much longer." The growling voice made me Jump, sending a shooting pain down my right side. "I did say keep still." The white robed medicae said.

"What?" I asked. I am barely capable of concentrating from the chemically induced fug of painkillers and sedatives. Despite having my memories, I am simply reliving the events that led to my recovery of the Veydon Archive, despite the feeling that I'm actually there, I do not seem truly in control of my actions, only repeating what was said and done at the time

" I also took the liberty of putting your name forward for election, which could make you one of the shortest serving interrogators in history." I remember one the secret orders in my Master, Inquisitor Damani Bosk's despatches named me Interrogator if the investigation to Aver proved successful. It had after a fashion, three months of painstaking investigation concerning disappearances and arson on that frontier world had been proven to be the work of the foul Rak'gol xenoes. I had conducted the investigation under the Seal of Questioning as a Legate Investigator. Even before I had sent the report of my findings to the Grand Master's Flagship, the _Avenger's Shield ,_ I had used the authority my master had given me to fully mobilise Aver's Planetary Defence Force and request aid from Battlefleet Thavma_. _

"Howlett?"

"That's Brother Captain Hugo Howlett to you, bub."

"Why?"

"That Distress call you send was heard by damn near every Rak'gol ship in the sector, they decided it was a job for the Ordo Xenos. Speaking of, there are one or two who would be interested in sponsoring you."  
"What about Bosk? What about my team?" I asked fearing the worst.

"Damani Bosk is under arrest for desecrating a Schola Progenium facility."

"What?"

"According to his report it was built over an ancient prison."

"Surely dead convicts wouldn't warrant this."

"The inmate wasn't human?"

"Inmate?"

"Lord of Change. The summoning was thwarted and the demon destroyed by all accounts, but the schola was levelled and the town along with it by a seismic charge."

"And the rest of my team?"

The Space Marine simply shook his head.

"How?"

"Ogryn Trooper Darsh was killed defending the Spaceport, took out five of the bastards in hand to hand combat alone. Savant Major Nicklesby didn't make it after her wounds after the attack on Macharion. The Precentor of the Astropathic choir owes her his life. Professor Sugden died protecting a refugee convoy." Sugden had been an old associate of mine, a Xeno archanist, it was he who had first raised the possibility of Rak'gol involvement. " Mr Drexley died defending the brothel he was visiting." That brought a smile to my face despite the circumstances. Drexley, first name unknown, real name unknown, naval deserter, former underworld hitman and Pariah, figuratively and literally, we were both recruited into Bosks service at the same time, shortly I had arrested the cocksure bastard. Despite our diametrically opposed nature, he was a decent man in his own way, never shirked from any job he volunteered for, no matter the circumstances.

"Father Schrover and Sister Kamala were both killed when the Rak'gol overran a PDF Aid Station." This hit hardest of all. Karel Schrover, a Guard Chaplain, one of the wisest, most wittily obscene men I had ever met. And Kamala, dear dauntless Kamala of the Order of the Warding Beacon, named for Kamala Thavma, namesake of our sector, healer, counsellor, and so much more. "I heardthey tried to do something to save the child but it was too late."

"Child?" This did shock me.

"Not the correct term I suppose, Sister Kamala was six weeks pregnant at the time of her death." This had explained a lot. Not least sharing a billet with me as well as a vague impression that something was preying on her thoughts. Why the hell hadn't I asked her instead of just smiling, nodding and enjoying the unexpected company?

When I regained consciousness I was in a stateroom on a sprint trader in orbit over Thavma's Rest a month after my conversation with Howlett. I was holding the dataslate stating that I had been elected to join the Ordo Xenos of the Thavma Sector and was due to stand my Vigil at the Cathedral of St. Stanislaus on Thavma's Rest, the Capital world of the Sector before my formal elevetation to Inquisitorial rank. The door chimed "May I enter sir?" A voice asked I looked up sharply and sure enough there she was, just as she had been just under a month ago. Clad in the simple dove grey robes of an initiate in the Order of the Argent Shroud, her face, despite the common white striped shingle bob hair cut she was somehow familiar. "I'm not sure I can help you sister?"

"Fidela sir, Iubara Fidela." Of course, now I remembered. Sister of Inquisitor Anna Fidela, another Pariah and also my master, now former master's lover. "My apologies sister, I met your – sister only the once."

She then asked if she was in the right state room, using my name.

"I'm actually an Inquisitor-Elect at the moment, I haven't been formally inducted."

"Well I was instructed to give you this." She said, handing a portable holoprojector and leaving as abruptly as she had entered. Upon closer inspection there appeared to be an old fashioned memory card in one of the ports. When I ejected the card and had a closer look, it turned out to be a psychoactive conductor similar to those of the Emperor's Tarot.

I inserted the card once more and activated the projector.

A perfectly lifelike figure was standing before me.

"Greetings Savant-Commander." It said, addressing me by my Naval Rank.

"It's actually Inquisitor Elect, my Lord." I said, surmising that the psychoactive card was allowing for direct communication. The figure I was addressing was Inquisitor Lord Wyndham Gileas, my former master's former master, former interrogator to Inquisitor Veydon himself, and a dark legend within Thavma Sector's Inquisition in his own right.

"I cannot respond to your questions if you are using the projector in the conventional manner. What I ask of you has been in folly by many men and women in our institution for the past century. Before the events that led to the arrests of myself, my former disciple and your master, I found a lead concerning a priceless piece of Imperial scholarship. My Former Master, Josia Veydon, spent decades, perhaps even centuries compiling our sector's history. I can explain in greater detail if you arrange an Auto Séance."

I duly summoned the ship's Astropath and began the ritual. When I activated the Data Slate again, Gileas's Apparition stepped forward and shook my hand. "Now that there is a psychic connection you can interact with this projection after a fashion."

I don't know whether oaths to psychic projections count but I am sworn not to divulge the details of how Inquisitor Gileas acquired his lead to this supposed archive.

"One question: Dozens of men and women have tried to find Veydon before and none have succeeded, that's why he's officially presumed dead. To the best of my knowledge no one has even tried looking for this archive even if it exists, so, why me?"

"Veydon was my master and I owe it to his memory to find his life's work. But, as you know I am in no position to go after this, and yet I can't let this opportunity slip away. I had hoped to send Inquisitor Fidela but it was she who alerted me to the cult activity on Kalifern. As for Bosk, well, he was installed as Abbot of the Schola to keep him out of the field until his wounds were fully healed. As Bosk's trusted Acolyte, you are the only person I feel I can trust at the moment. And of course, my political enemies were only too happy to comply with my request and give you this assignment as this prevents you from acting as Bosk's Second in the hearing and protecting me by extension."

"Very well My Lord Inquisitor, I take this debt of honour as my own. The Emperor Protects."


	5. Chapter 5

I am then dragged back to Reality, figuratively and literally as Teleportation is completed. Eisenstark's Flag Captain has taken the wise precaution of despatching medical teams to the Teleportarium. Eisenstark himself briefly stands by to watch the Medical teams arrive. Following his example, stark loading the worst wounded on the stretchers to transport them to the Sick Bay. We both head to the armoury to have our power armour removed.

"I hope it was worth it, I lost a lot of good people out there?"

"Worth it how?"

"History, this could tell us a lot about the early years of the sector."

"Not to mention your family history."

"They say Veydon intended to have it in every Schola Progenium as an instruction manual for Thavma Sector's Inquisitors."

The ship rocks and Klaxons sound.

Without thinking I follow Eisenstark to the Bridge.

"Sitrep." The young rogue trader barks

"Ork Rok coming from the asteroids, closing fast, two more probably contacts."

"Have you started the transition rites for Warp travel"

"As soon as you returned aboard."

"How long?"

"20 minutes."

"It'll have to be enough, all ahead full, we're outnumbered and we have what we came for."

There is nothing for me to do so I head to a monitoring station to watch events unfold.

I then see several small blips coming from the direction of the gas giant not far from our position.

"Vampire, Vampire six contacts bearing two five oh mark two one seven, Impact time 50 seconds."

There is a split second of confusion, either because they don't recognise my voice, or because they are unfamiliar with the Naval Voice Procedure. One of the bridge officers however, seems to understand.

"Come to new heading mark oh three seven."

The ship rolls to present its dorsal hull to the torpedoes. This presents a bigger target for what guidance systems they might possess but is also gives more coverage for our point defence guns.

Two of the torpedoes miss entirely, our turrets bring down one more, while the remaining three hit, two of which cause damage. The ship rocks at the impact and a console on the bridge shorts out, killing the officer manning it.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Eisenstark asks.

"They must have used the gravity well of the gas giant as a slingshot and fired off the torpedoes to cripple us when we tried to escape."

"I've never heard of orks trying something that clev- sneaky." He says hastily avoid the blasphemy of praising the Alien

" The last time someone tried that was heretic reavers about six months back." We decompressed a few decks, detonated some ordnance, pretended they'd disable us. They moved into boarding range, we locked on, knocked out their shields and send a Teleport raid." The Flag Captain said.

"Well there's no time for that now, we've got to get out of here before these Greenskins show us any more tricks." A digitised voice sounds over the ship's intercom.

"Rights of Passage complete, all hands right for Warping stations."


End file.
